Archive of Our Own ^beta

January 19, 11:14 AM

Wright & Co. Law Offices

Phoenix hasn’t taken any cases in three weeks, but he does come into the office to water Charley every couple of days. Not like anyone else is there to, after all. Either way, that’s when he checks the answering machine.

Uh, you’ve reached Wright & Co. Law Offices, I’m not available right now, so leave a message. And, uh, if it’s urgent, contact the police department, they can get in touch with me on short notice. And if it’s Larry, I don’t need any more cheese, stop calling the office to try and sell me cheese. Thanks.

*beep*

… Wright.

Phoenix feels his blood freeze over.

First of all, a highly unprofessional answering machine recording. Second… I have some questions for you. Unrelated to legal matters. If we could arrange to meet for a discussion, I would… appreciate it. Call me back when you hear this.

(Message Received Tuesday 17th January 2017 At 4:38 PM. To Hear Message Again, Press 1. To Save Message, Press 2. To Delete Me-)

He hits 3, and then regrets it, because he doesn’t actually know what Edgeworth’s number is, in any capacity. Despite their reunion in the last few months having gone… ultimately well enough… they didn’t pause to reconnect outside of business. Sure, there was that final interaction after Edgeworth’s innocence was doubly proven - where Larry had given him that wayward $38 back at last - but then Edgeworth had been returned to police detention, and since then they’ve hardly seen each other, let alone stopped to swap digits.

It’s a shame; he doesn’t really know what he’d been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t pure professionalism. When they’d all gone out for dinner that night, it had felt like there was a space unfilled at the table. Larry on one side of him, complaining about having been dumped by Kiyance; Maya on the other, unsuccessfully trying to needle him into letting her try some of his drink (“Come on, Maya, I’m a lawyer, I’m not going to supply alcohol to a minor in front of this many witnesses!”)... No Edgeworth.

Phoenix spent a lot of time at law school coming up with hypothetical versions of these moments, of the conversations they’d have when Edgeworth finally saw him again. Now that they’re consigned to memory instead of imagination, they feel a little disappointing.

But this? Meet for a discussion? Unrelated to legal matters? That’s fascinating. That’s mysterious. That’s new.

He calls the police department.

“Can I speak to Detective Gumshoe, please? It’s Phoenix. Wright.”

“Ah, Mr Wright, the one and only! Yeah, give me a minute, I’ll go see if he’s available.” A few seconds on hold, and then “Okay, I’ll put you through!”, and then click.

“Detective?”

“Pal! Good to see ya! Er, hear from ya! What’s the situation? You got a client?”

“Um, no, I’m… taking a little time off.” He’s got some legroom at the minute, now that Maya Burger Fund is no longer a column on the budget spreadsheet. (Among other reasons.) “Listen - Mr Edgeworth sent me a message on Tuesday, I just got it this morning. He told me to call him back, but I, uh… I deleted the message before I could copy down his phone number, so -”

“Edgeworth? Called you?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, what’d he want?”

“He didn’t say. Well, he did say it wasn’t about work, but that’s pretty much all he said. So do you have his number?”

“Of course I do! It’s, uh… oh, wait, no, because it just changed, ‘cause he’s in the… so it would be the number for… sorry, pal, gimme a minute, it’s, uh… there!”

Phoenix grabs pen and paper, scribbles down the digits on the Gatewater Hotel themed notepad that’s been sitting on the desk since the beginning of time, and which Mia probably “collected” from some much older case. “Thanks, Detective Gumshoe!”

“Ey, no problem, pal, you’d do the same for me! Just… you tell Mr Edgeworth to give some other people a call some time, ya hear? Since he’s got no problem with talkin’ to you and all.”

Oh? Has Edgeworth been quiet on the Detective’s end as well? “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good! Between you and me, I’ve been a little worried. It’s good to hear that he’s talked to somebody in the last coupl’a days, at least. That von Karma case, digging up old memories like that… I feel bad for the fella, y’know?”

“I understand,” says Phoenix. “At least he doesn’t have to live with quite so much guilt any more.”

“That’s right! And now he’s at the top of the heap, as well! Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was up for an award this year, what with the King being deposed an’ all… But we probably shouldn’t sit here gabbin’ away about poor Mr Edgeworth, when he’s waitin’ on your call, huh?”

“I guess. I’ll speak to you again soon, I hope, Detective!”

“See ya! Er, hear ya!”

And then it’s time to call Edgeworth. He’s filled with a sudden hesitancy, although he’s not sure why, because Edgeworth’s the one who wanted to speak to him, not the other way round. It’s… It’s just a strange situation, is the thing. Edgeworth hasn’t been in touch with anybody else? Even Gumshoe? And when he does reach out, he chooses Phoenix?

Argh - no use spending so much time debating over it. Phoenix calls.

“Edgeworth speaking.”

“Hey! Um, you called?”

“Oh. Wright. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t respond.”

“Huh? Why wouldn’t I say anything, after you told me to call you back?!”

“I had expected to hear from you yesterday at the latest. You do advertise yourself as keeping regular office hours.”

“Right… sorry about that. I’ve been taking a little time off. I’m surprised you didn’t do the same, after -”

“Regardless. I wished to speak with you, and I still do. Where would I be able to meet with you?”

“We can’t just talk about it on the phone?”

“I’m afraid not. This is something I would prefer not to get too many people tangled up in. The more private this engagement is kept, the better.”

“Engagement??”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Wright. I want to speak to you.”

(The ring comes later, I’m sure.) “Well, you can come to the office, I guess. It’s just me right now.”

“No Miss Fey?”

“Maya’s gone back home. For work.” (Training, to be more specific.)

“Good. That’s… good. I’ll be working on a case for the next few hours, but I should be able to stop by this afternoon. I’m sure you can find some means by which to busy yourself.”

“A-alright, sure. And can I -?”

“I’ll speak to you soon, Wright.” Click.

Phoenix blinks at the receiver. That didn’t shed light on anything.

Any other day lately, he would’ve headed home by now, but if Edgeworth is going to be here in the afternoon then he figures he ought to stick around. Phoenix wipes a layer of dust off the desk and the computer, makes sure Mia’s shelf worth of intimidating legal books are all in order, sweeps up some of the dust on the carpet. (It was deep cleaned last September, for obvious reasons, so it’s still in pretty good condition, but you never know with Edgeworth; Phoenix doesn’t really want to be on the other end of one of those witheringly disapproving glares any time soon.)

Then he thinks about getting lunch - it could be nice to go somewhere out while he’s in the city, something he’s not exactly skilled enough to make on his own. But… the only places he’s familiar with around here are the burger joints, and that would feel… disrespectful, somehow. Luckily, he’s got a drawer full of instant ramen pots in here, a drawer he’s gradually stocked to perfection over the course of the last half a year or so, and Mia kept an electric kettle in for client-comforting cups of tea, so that’s lunch taken care of. Phoenix eats, idly watching the hotel out the window. He can see the shadow of a couple getting cozy in the Murder Suite. (Guess there’s nothing like the memory of a violent crime to get your motor running?)

And then…

It’s really strange. For all that Phoenix spent so many years desperately trying to get back in the room with Edgeworth, wanting one more chance to speak to the Demon Prosecutor and understand exactly what had made him sour… Now that he’s been given the opportunity, he’s not so sure it’s what he wants any more. Or, well, it is, but not this way. His imagined interactions had been a lot more… sparkly.

Which isn’t to say that he regrets what he’s done in clearing Edgeworth’s name, far from it! Honestly, he probably couldn’t have made a better first - er, re-first - impression on the man. Winning every case against him yet, and even the case against the man who Edgeworth had assured him was a god among prosecutors - that’s a strong demonstration and a useful lead. Admittedly, Edgeworth’s response to being beaten twice in a row had been to ask Phoenix to never show his face in the courtroom again… but that was only understandable! Emotional outbursts are perfectly common, especially from a guy like him, who had just said that his “unnecessary feelings” were a big distraction! See, the evidence all lines up when it’s laid out logically like this.

Plus, he owes Phoenix his life now. Maybe he wants to talk about that debt. Although Phoenix would have considered it thoroughly repaid; the legal fees he’d received for successfully defending Edgeworth twice over had been more than substantial, and were honestly probably the only reason he’s been able to take this break in the first place. Will Powers had shelled out generously, sure, but Edgeworth had negotiated the invoice to heights that Phoenix wouldn’t have dreamed of charging. If it hadn’t been for that negotiation, they wouldn’t have spoken at all since December 28th.

Until this call.

Hey - what’s Phoenix so caught up about, with not having spoken in three weeks? That’s got nothing on eleven years, right? He’s done this whole reunion thing already, and he crushed it! What’s Edgeworth gonna do or say that could be so much more stressful than falsely accusing Maya of her sister’s murder?

… There’s a lot of reasonable answers to that question, actually, and none that Phoenix particularly likes. Oh boy.

The buzzer sounds, which means that Edgeworth is standing in the office entrance right now. Phoenix hasn’t put his empty pot and chopsticks away yet. They are tossed unceremoniously in the trashcan round the side of the desk, and that’s about all the preparation time that Phoenix gives himself before he opens the office door.

“Hey, Edgeworth!”

Edgeworth looks him up and down. “Where’s your suit?”

“Ah, I only came in to water - water the plant,” he says, embarrassed by the concept of referring to Charley by name in front of anyone but Maya. “I wasn’t supposed to be working today. You caught me off guard.”

“Hmm.” He’s being judged aesthetically. It’s not comfortable. “You did say you were taking time off, didn’t you. I suppose that does make sense.”

“Why don’t you come sit?” He gestures to the little couch-and-table setup where he was just sitting. It’s never actually been used for clients while this office has been Wright & Co, given that he’s met them all in the detention centre for their first exchanges. “I can get some tea started.”

Edgeworth visibly grimaces. (Hey, is the thought of drinking my tea that bad?!) “I’d rather you didn’t, thank you. If we could skip the pleasantries altogether, that would be ideal.”

Skipping pleasantry - sounds about right for Edgeworth. “Sure,” says Phoenix, and, in noticing that there’s no second couch for himself to sit on, he wheels the desk chair across to the middle of the room. “So, hit me.”

“A-actually…” and since when has he heard Edgeworth stutter? “... does this office door lock, by any chance?”

“Uh, it does, yeah?”

“I’d like to maximise our chance of privacy.”

“... Okay?” (Locked in a room with Edgeworth… this could either go extremely well or very badly.)

As he’s fumbling with his keys, the room goes dark, then darker still. Edgeworth has drawn the blinds, as well. Phoenix turns on the overhead lamp, suddenly very concerned.

“Jeez, how private is this?”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” says Edgeworth. “Take a seat.”

(Who does this office belong to, again…?) Phoenix sits.

Edgeworth does not start talking.

“So…” Phoenix looks around the room. “Are you gonna tell me what the deal is?”

He clears his throat uneasily. “Your friend, Miss Fey. She turned out to be the daughter of Misty Fey, did she not?”

“Yeah. Yes, she is.” He’s not sure which of the sisters Edgeworth means, but he supposes it doesn’t matter.

“Misty Fey, the vampire hunter, who was instrumental in the case that surrounded the DL-6 Incident.”

“That’s right.” The Fey clan, although Phoenix hadn’t been aware of it until Maya came into his life, are some of the most skilled vampire hunters in the country. Misty had been the only one who was able to track down the missing husk of Gregory Edgeworth - once a good man, reduced to a mindless creature of the night that fateful day. Of course, he’d given her bad information, and tarnished her family’s name, and Gregory Edgeworth’s killer had remained unidentified in the fifteen years that followed… but Misty had saved his soul from the fate worse than death to which it had been consigned, or so the police reports had said. Maya lived in admiration of her mother, even without knowing where she’d vanished to since then. Until the whole business with Mia turned that understanding upside down - but Edgeworth really shouldn’t know about that.

“Did you… engage, at all, with any of that business during her time as your legal aide?”

“Did I do any vampire hunting?” (Better be super specific. He can’t accuse me of withholding information if I technically tell him nothing but the truth.) “No, I can’t say I’ve ever held a stake. I’m not comfortable with that kind of thing - violence is much better read about in an autopsy report, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Wright,” says Edgeworth, “I can tell that you’re withholding information.”

(Fuck.)

“So you didn’t hold a stake in your own two hands, I’ll believe that, but I’m certain you have a better understanding of Miss Fey’s work than you’re letting on. Tell me everything you know.”

“Everything?”

“The whole of your personal experience with vampires, yes.”

“Uh… I don’t know if I can do that. Maya might have my head if she knew I was spilling her secrets.” (And Mia would for certain.)

“Wright, I -” Edgeworth cuts himself off, pinches his brow between two fingers and looks down at the table between them. “- I fear that we may have reached an impasse, then. If you won’t make clear to me your stance on the subject, I won’t explain what brought me here today. It’s your decision.”

“Huh?!” This whole thing gets weirder and weirder. What does Edgeworth want with Phoenix’s history? He’d have thought after the whole thing with von Karma that Edgeworth would have wanted to never touch the topic of vampires again.

… Oh. That’s what this is about.

“This is about your mentor, isn’t it?”

Edgeworth jolts back, caught off-guard. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, after… the outcome of the case… you must be angry, right? That von Karma was able to hide his true nature from you all that time. And that he’d done something so awful to your father as well. Is it that you want to know if I’m a sympathiser?” (That you won’t have to vanish from my world again, knowing that I’m too kind to the curse that has haunted the last fifteen years of your life?)

He scowls for a second, calculating. It never fails to escape Phoenix’s notice how awful the bags under Edgeworth’s eyes can be. (Although they do seem to have cleared up just a touch.) “Unbelievable. Or, well, I suppose completely believable. Through application of all the wrong assumptions, you have somehow managed to arrive at the correct conclusion once again.”

So it is the case! Phoenix smirks. “My mission in life is to never fail to surprise you, Edgeworth.”

“Go on, then, Wright. Surprise me. Tell me what you really think of vampirism, after working with Miss Fey for all this time.”

And what will really surprise Edgeworth is… “I don’t think vampires are inhuman.”

Edgeworth stares at him.

“Not any more,” Phoenix continues. “I mean, we all learned that they’re nothing more than violent corpses growing up, didn’t we? And all I knew about them was that a vampire should be staked to prevent further harm, that it’s only putting things right, that they’re dead already. But working with Maya…”

(Mia, slumped on the floor, a trickle of blood from her neck down into her chest. Maya, horrified, passing out cold. Phoenix, holding Mia’s body, checking desperately for any signs of life.

A whisper in his ear. Phoenix. Don’t tell her I’m not dead. White can finally get what he deserves.)

“Wright?”

“Ahem - yes. Um… working with Maya, I learned that it’s not so simple. A vampire still retains the mannerisms of the person they used to be. Their memories, too. That testimony… it wouldn’t be admissible in court, which is why they had to keep it covered up, but it could certainly be believed.”

(Maya, broken-hearted, swearing revenge against the monster who had killed her beloved sister. Phoenix, confidently taking the case for her innocence. Mia, behind the scenes, consulting him under cover of darkness to point out the clues that he’d missed, the list of names that would eventually take White down.)

“And if you were to meet a vampire without knowing what they were… well, you might never notice, right? The only thing that changes is their pallor and their teeth. There could be thousands walking the streets of LA right now.”

“I’d think they might be somewhat hampered by the sun,” Edgeworth points out. “We don’t exactly live in the cloudiest of states.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point! The point is that if vampires were really so mindless and destructive, you wouldn’t be sitting before me right now, would you?”

Edgeworth chokes on nothing. “How do you mean?”

“Von Karma would have killed you long ago, of course!”

“Oh. Yes. Right.”

(Hmm. Well, not the time for pressing.) “Anyway, it’s complicated. And what’s more, I’m sure I’ve dealt with plenty of secret vampires in my time without my knowledge. So I can’t say for certain that they all deserve to be staked on the spot, because all of the evidence I’ve recently been given.”

(Phoenix, conflicted about keeping such a pivotal secret from his new dear friend. Mia, ultimately deciding that she missed her sister too much not to trust her. Maya, coming to learn that vampires aren’t all bad, in the undead embrace of her sister’s surviving love.)

Edgeworth seems unsettled. Phoenix falters. “What? Was that the wrong answer?”

“... No. No, you’re quite right, Wright. It does seem far more likely than I once thought.”

“Okay, so now it’s your turn.”

“Hmm?”

“You promised! You said that if I told you how I feel about vampires, you’d explain what brought you here today! Come on, I’ve been waiting here for hours, you can’t go back on your word now!”

“... I remember what I said. And I wouldn’t be absent from my office for any length of time right now if it wasn’t extremely worth it. I just… need a moment to gather my courage, is all.”

Huh. That’s unusual for Edgeworth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Wright, I…”

Phoenix suddenly remembers the locked door and the closed blinds. And that this is most likely a story about vampires, too. He feels faint.

“... You’ve proven in court that Manfred von Karma was a vampire in all the time that I knew him; that this was not a recent development. Indeed, I was aware of that, as well. I was never questioned on the subject, but I knew.”

“Huh? You lived with him for fifteen years, knowing he was a vampire, and you never did anything about it?”

“What could I have done? A child, trying to fight back against a man with hundreds of years’ worth of experience overpowering others? It would have ended in disaster either way. And my sister was so young - she didn’t deserve to lose her father.”

“Your sister?” (This is the first I’m hearing about this!)

“Von Karma’s biological child. Around the same bodily age as young Miss Fey, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Bodily age?”

“A vampire’s child seems to possess a different mental age, from what I understand. Franziska has been of sound adult mind since the moment of her birth. I would often see her crying in her youth, unable to properly express the complex thoughts she possessed due to lack of speech development. It was no surprise to me that she began training to be a prosecutor at the same time I did.”

“That’s…” (Unreal.) “Interesting.”

“Either way, I remained in the von Karma household, and there I learned my new direction in life. I recall I used to be confident that I would one day train to be a defense attorney.”

“Yeah, I remember it as well.” (That’s why I found it so weird that day I saw you in the paper.)

“Still, even learning and putting into practice my family’s underhanded techniques of prosecution, I have never quite been able to shake my underlying desire to prove the truth. And your arrival has done nothing but exacerbate that problem.”

“Problem? Since when is wanting to find the truth a problem?”

“My perfect record is linchpinned on proving guilt, Wright, not on upholding honesty. Each criminal I prosecute is proven guilty, and I am vindicated, and life goes on. If it did not…”

Ah. Hm. Someone in this room might have presented a slight difficulty in that plan to preserve a perfect record, and it wasn’t Edgeworth.

“Von Karma held the threat of being turned over my head. I have… watched more acts of violence than any young man should. It was all in the name of my legacy, and in turn, in his.”

“So when I defended Maya, and I found White guilty…?”

“I was fortunate,” says Edgeworth. “He let me go that time. I was assured that another failure would not be so leniently treated.”

“So then when Powers -”

“We don’t have to do the play-by-play, Wright,” Edgeworth huffs. “Yes, my punishment was to be framed for Hammond’s murder. I’m sure von Karma would have told me that death was a mercy for the poverty of my conduct.”

“... But I got you out of that one, too.”

“You certainly did.”

“And he’s truly gone, now, right? The man was staked in custody immediately, wasn’t he?”

“You’re forgetting something, Wright. I know you can jump to the right conclusion like you always do. Go on, show off your little party trick like always.”

Phoenix mentally rifles through the spread of evidence. What fact does he know which can prove that there was a missing step between von Karma’s indictment and his staking?

He’d slammed his fists against the wall and cursed Miles Edgeworth’s name… and then the verdict had been delivered, Not Guilty… and von Karma had been detained, pending trial at a higher court soon after… and then they’d spoken in the lobby outside, and Larry had handed over the wayward $38… and then Edgeworth had been returned to detention…

No. No way. “You weren’t detained… together, were you?”

“We weren’t. The police had that much foresight, at least. Still, it was difficult to restrain a man with several hundred years’ experience overpowering others, as I previously suggested. He made it back to me.”

Von Karma’s screams echo in Phoenix’s mind. I'll bury you! I'll bury you with my bare hands!

“The police were able to take him out at last, with four officers working together. However, they were not faster than his superhuman reflexes, and he… enacted his final revenge against the family who broke his perfect record.”

“Edgeworth…”

“I told them I was unhurt. The funny thing is, I’m sure if he had been tried again, he would have paid his way out of it. Even with Bluecorp under new management, he still had information on enough people to swing it. Being staked before he left the building was the single safest choice.”

“But it still wasn’t enough.”

“No, Wright.” Edgeworth swallows. “And now I have become the very thing I’ve feared my entire life.”

That’s it, then. That’s the big reveal. Edgeworth has been turned.

He sits, unmoving, waiting for a reaction. Phoenix notices for the first time today that he’s not breathing. Funny, the things you can gloss over when you’re not really looking for them.

“So where do I come in?”

“... That’s all? You’re not going to pass any sort of judgement?”

Phoenix thinks back to that first conversation with Mia, finally meeting her in hiding. How terrified she’d been that Maya would find out, pronounce her long gone just like they’d always been trained to do, and take her out on sight. He remembers consoling Mia, assuring her that she had at least one person on her side if no-one else. He needs to be that for Edgeworth now as well. “No. I would have no right to judge you. I’m the defense, remember? That means I need to believe in your innocence, and fight for it if I have to.”

“Wright, I told you this was unrelated to business.”

“O-oh, yeah, you did, huh…” He ignores the sweat that’s forming on his temple. “Anyway! You must have come to me for a reason, and I suspect that that reason is because you trust me to keep this quiet. And I will! I guess you don’t exactly have that many other trustworthy people in your life right now, right?”

“... Yes. I don’t want to inform my sister of her father’s final decision. She would not be pleased to learn of my recent failures, to say the least. And besides, Franziska has… her own methods of keeping herself going.”

“Keeping herself going?”

“To the matter. You’re familiar with a vampire’s primary form of sustenance.”

“Blood.”

“Yes. It can be easier to come by for some than others. At home, we had a steady supply of servants, enthralled by my father, acting as donors in exchange for what we considered a pittance.” (Phoenix ignores the fact that her father has become my father, that the von Karma household has become home.) “If any of them were to step out of line, or otherwise become undesirable, they would be summarily disposed of and used as an example for my continued obedience. This was how my father and Franziska fed.”

“No mother?”

“No,” says Edgeworth curtly. (Again, better not to press too hard, it seems.)

“So… how have you been… coping?”

Edgeworth looks gaunt. “I refuse to kill. I have spent enough time proving beyond any reasonable doubt that the worst thing a person can be in this world is a criminal. I will not be going back on that stance any time soon.”

“So, what, are you stealing blood bags from hospitals?”

“Wright! How low do you think I am? Good people need that blood. It’s been donated to help the sick, not to sate some undeserving creature’s appetite.”

Edgeworth’s evidently rock-bottom self esteem aside - “Then what have you been doing?”

He says nothing.

“... Starving?”

There it is. The truth at the core of this conversation. Edgeworth has not been willing to eat for the last three weeks, and now he’s hit a breaking point.

“How are you still alive? Or - er - still strong enough to speak to me?”

“I have been… remaining on my feet where I can. I work, and I continue working. It certainly helps that you’ve been off my radar since the new year - I have a much easier time proving defendants guilty when anybody else is in the chair, it seems. At night, I work at home instead. It helps keep me distracted.”

“Edgeworth, you can’t distract yourself out of hunger forever.”

“I am aware of that, Wright. Why did you think I called?”

He’d figured as much. “Because you figured you could trust me to help with it.”

They lock eyes once more. It’s unnerving. “Can I?”

“Of course,” says Phoenix, before he can think any better of it. If Mia had asked, he’d have done the same. (Where has she been getting blood from, anyway? … Maya? Or do hunters just know the right tricks for the job?)

“Hah. It’s almost too poetic. In life, you delivered me from a cruel fate that had been hanging over me since I was young… in death, you do the same. How is it that we keep being brought back together, in ever stranger circumstances?”

“Fate is only what we make it, Edgeworth.” He’d almost said Miles. Miles is the boy who he spent years working tirelessly to come back around to. Edgeworth is the man that Miles became while Phoenix wasn’t looking.

“I suppose you’re right. Hence this proposal.”

“Proposal??”

“Once again getting ahead of yourself!” Edgeworth huffs. “A better word might be request, I suppose. A request which it seems to me you are accepting?”

He nods wordlessly.

“I’m glad. And now, nothing remains but for me to…”

Phoenix undoes the top button on his shirt. (Hey, he’s not in full suit-and-tie, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look at least somewhat presentable!)

Edgeworth trails off, staring.

“Hm?”

“Yes. Logically. Of course. I-I mean - Wright, are you a fool? I’m not going to go straight for the carotid artery, I do want you left alive.”

“Oh!” Yeah, actually, that makes more sense, if Edgeworth starts… literally anywhere else. What was he thinking? Was he thinking? Unlikely.

“Give me your wrist.”

Phoenix obliges. The sleeve of his sweater rides up a touch, but Edgeworth pushes it up his arm more firmly. He pauses again, and Phoenix tilts his head to study Edgeworth’s face. Good ol’ unease and uncertainty, if he’s not mistaken. “Go on. It’s okay.”

For some reason that he could probably name if he put a bit more thought into it, the feeling of Edgeworth’s lips against his wrist makes him lightheaded. Teeth press hesitantly against the skin of his arm, and then - ah! - a puncture, and then gentle, insistent pressure drawing blood out of the wound.

… For about five seconds. Then Edgeworth stops. Then starts again. Then stops, and pulls his mouth away, and Phoenix takes in the sight of Edgeworth fresh from drinking, mouth still bloody, and he feels even fainter with the strange, indescribable appeal of it. (Or that might just be the blood loss.) “What?”

Edgeworth takes a deep breath that can’t possibly be necessary. “Are we sure it’s supposed to taste like that?”

“Huh?”

“Stop making noises at me. Your blood. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with it?”

“Wrong with it? I’m sure it’s perfectly fine! It’s gotten me this far, after all!”

“It tastes wrong. Incomplete. I don’t - I mean, I’m sure it will suffice, but I’m certain there’s a problem with it.”

“You call me after three weeks of radio silence to everyone, even Gumshoe, and I let you drink my blood, and now you’re telling me it’s faulty? I don’t understand you sometimes, Edgeworth.” (A lot of the time.)

“Listen, Wright, I don’t - I mean no offense. Do you struggle with lightheadedness? Cold fingers, fainting spells, failing vision when you stand too quickly?”

“Um…” Yes.

“You have anemia. I can’t believe no one has ever told you this before. I’m sure I’ve even seen you faint in court.”

He has. “Objection, that’s irrelevant!” It was to do with Mia, not with - with the shortcomings he’s being accused of!

“If I never hear you say that word again, it’ll be far too soon,” says Edgeworth. “And anyway, if I were the judge, you’d be summarily overruled. It’s clear that you have anemia, and that’s why your blood tastes so unusual that even I, a brand new vampire, could tell. Have you been eating a balanced diet to keep up your iron intake?”

“Uh…” Phoenix’s eyes dart over to the drawer full of instant ramen. “I eat a perfectly balanced diet!”

“Wright, I’m very used to preparing witnesses for the prosecution. I know the appearance of a liar.”

“Listen, Maya’s been away, and I just don’t like going out for proper meals without her -”

“Then take some supplements, man, you owe it to yourself if not to me. Or, hell, come and eat my food. I can’t enjoy the taste of normal food any more.”

“... Wait, you can’t?”

“I’m afraid not. All other food and drink takes on the taste of ash these days. It sticks in my throat for days on end. Trust me, it’s undesirable.”

“Oh! Is that why you refused the tea?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh, man.” Being unable to eat any of his favourite foods ever again without it tasting like soot… that sounds unbearable, not just undesirable. “You’re sure it’s all other food and drink?”

“Well, I suspect raw meat might be enough to fool my newfound instincts under better circumstances. I do recall my father ordering his steak tartare if we were ever in a situation where he needed to keep up appearances by having food.”

(Maybe that’s what Mia does, then. ... Wait.) “Hold it! Why didn’t you try that first instead of calling me?”

Edgeworth looks suddenly and unmistakably guilty.

Phoenix frowns. Looks down at his wound, two neat dots on otherwise unmarked skin. Back at Edgeworth.

Edgeworth clears his throat. “... Would you believe me if I told you I hadn’t thought of it till now?”

“I might have, if you didn’t make that face, and if you didn’t just tell me that you knew von Karma regularly ordered steak in your youth. But now I know there’s something else going on here. But what reason would you possibly have to lie about that?”

“What do you think, Wright? Why might a man obfuscate his intentions, all just to get into your office and entrust you with the truth? Why, when I could have arranged a regular delivery from a butcher and kept this secret to myself forever? Why choose your blood, which at this point doesn’t even seem to have been worth it?”

“Hey! You’re just being rude now. But you do raise a good point - what makes me so special, over anybody else? If it’s just that we used to know each other, you could’ve been in touch with Larry just as easily, and had him there in half the time.”

“I somehow doubt the quality of Larry’s blood, don’t you? I don’t want to catch anything he might be giving out, quite frankly.”

“You’re… not wrong.” So many models, with so many partners that Larry isn’t told about… It’s probably not the most appetizing stuff. “But still - choosing the man who you know is closely associated with the Fey clan, vampire hunters with decades of history - that’s not a wise decision! So something else must have made me seem like the most attractive choice.”

Edgeworth’s tongue trips over itself. “Attractive??”

And there the whole thing slots together.

“Edgeworth,” Phoenix says. “Don’t tell me you called me because -”

“Please don’t say it. I’m ashamed enough already.” (He would probably be bright red by now, if there were enough blood in his body to make that happen…)

“Edgeworth,” he repeats, “the last thing I want is to make you feel ashamed of yourself right now. I told you, I’m in your corner. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone.”

“But… I am alone,” says Edgeworth. “I have these deeply unfamiliar feelings, and evidently - evidently you don’t share them. Or, when I was made so vulnerable by my confession, you would have -”

“Wait, I didn’t think that was the situation at all!” (I was too focused on keeping Mia’s secret. I didn’t stop to think about how Edgeworth was feeling until after his confession!)

“Does that change anything now, Wright? There’s no way it can. And I return to my original position. This was a mistake.”

Edgeworth stands, and Phoenix follows - “Hold it!”

“I don’t think I will. Unlock the door, please, Wright. That’s quite enough embarrassment for one day.”

“Unlock the door?”

… That’s right - there was a reason he spent so long fumbling with his keys earlier! If it was just a simple switch to lock the door, Edgeworth would be out of here already. But it isn’t… so the power returns to Phoenix.

“Not until we work this out.”

“What? Are you insane? You’d willingly choose to keep yourself locked in a room with a vampire, even after he’s taken your blood? You know I could kill you where you stand, right?”

“But you won’t, will you? You wouldn’t kill me, and you just confirmed exactly the reason why.”

Edgeworth looks defeated. It’s never been a look that Phoenix has enjoyed seeing. Right now, it feels even worse. He’s won, but at what cost?

“Okay, so we’re in agreement, then. We’ll take a second to talk this through.”

“I can’t imagine anything productive will come of that, but… as you wish. I would prefer not to have to break your window.”

“Edgeworth, you just had your first meal in three weeks. I suspect you’re not exactly strong enough to break the window right now.”

“Damn,” says Edgeworth, proving him correct. Phoenix tries not to look too smug. “And wipe that smug look off of your face.” (Fuck.)

“Not until you sit back down,” he counters.

So, they sit.

“Okay, so walk me through it. What’s the situation?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I was… angry, that someone I knew as a child could end up besting me at the only sport I’ve ever excelled at. And then I was frustrated, that you kept finding the cracks in all my witnesses, that my whole model of operation was being dismantled brick by brick. And then I was confused, that you would choose to defend me even against the might of Manfred von Karma’s prosecution - and then grateful, that you succeeded. I will never be able to truly repay you for that.”

“I dunno about that. You paid me a lot of money.” (Several months’ rent and bills on both an office and an apartment, to be precise.)

“How can any number of zeroes on an invoice match the payment of a life?”

Phoenix doesn’t try to fight him any further.

Edgeworth sighs. “And then I lost my life, and I went back into work the next morning like it hadn’t happened, and I have been… trying to forget it all since then. I have barely spoken to people that aren’t my colleagues at the Prosecutor's Office. I was hoping that if I just worked hard enough, I might be able to push the whole sorry business out of my mind for good.”

“The sorry business of… having feelings?”

“Yes,” he says, terse, “and I was unsuccessful. Which is why I made the selfish choice that I did.”

“Coming here.”

“There was some logic to it, I perceived. My father held no attachment to the people whose blood he fed on. They were part of our everyday life, but they might as well have been faceless and nameless. And when they were no longer of use to him, they were just as easily discarded. I thought, if I were able to make you into a food source in my mind…”

“You’d be able to forget about the other stuff?”

“And I was unsuccessful at that too. Although it certainly doesn’t help that your blood is so unpalatable.”

“Hey, haven’t we moved past that by now?!”

“I’m not sure I ever can. It’s the sort of thing that, once you learn it about someone, you can never look at them the same way again.”

“... Was that a joke?”

“It was,” says Edgeworth, “I’m immensely surprised at your noticing.”

(Ugh. Edgeworth.)

Phoenix pushes back on his feet and starts idly spinning in the chair. He wants to take a moment to think this through as well. For all the time in his life he’s spent thinking about Edgeworth - imagining future talks with Edgeworth - hell, fantasizing about Edgeworth, if you want to put it that way - he’s never so much as considered romancing Edgeworth. And that’s not for lack of bisexual inclinations! Just because Phoenix has only been with girls before (well, girl), doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be down for this in theory. He’s just never actually tried being down with it.

Phoenix takes that sparkly filter that’s overlaid across so many of his thoughts about Edgeworth and tries switching the sparkles out for hearts.

… Holy shit.

“Okay, I’m down with this,” he announces, into the silence that’s fallen.

Edgeworth blinks at him. “I’m sorry? You’re done?”

“No, I’m down. Like, I’m into it. Let’s do it.”

“... I must have misunderstood you.”

(Oh boy. Nothing else for it, then.) “You heard me right, you just don’t wanna believe it. So, I’ll make it even clearer for you. Miles Edgeworth, I’m interested in starting a relationship with you! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Edgeworth looks completely lost. “You looked away from me for five seconds.”

“Yes, and in that time, I came to a conclusion!”

“How on earth can you possibly have made such an important decision in so little time?”

“It seems simple enough to me. I’ve spent so much time trying to get back into your life. For that to be the actions of a concerned friend is reasonable, but for it to be a crush makes much more sense now that I think about it!”

“You didn’t notice that you had a crush?”

“It’s happened to me before! And anyway, it all works out the same. So what do you say?”

Edgeworth pinches his brow between his fingers again for a good few seconds. Then, he looks up again, exhausted. “I’d say that you’re as insufferable as you’ve always been… and, unfortunately, just as endearing, too.”

“Endearing?”

“Wright, we’ve been in a relationship for less than a minute. Please don’t make me regret it already.”

“So we are in a relationship now! Sweet!”

“Yes, I suppose we are,” says Edgeworth. Hey - that’s a good point.

“And you can stop calling me Wright, if we’re together,” Phoenix argues. “It’s a little… detached, don’t you think?”

“That was what I’ve been going for all this time… Phoenix.”

“That’s much better!” He stands again, intending to come sit over on the couch next to his new boyfriend, and winces at the sudden spike of lightheadedness, black spots encroaching on his vision. “Ouch.”

“I will buy you iron supplements,” Edgeworth - Miles - insists. “Look at it this way - you’ll never faint in court again.”

“That was one time!”

He finds his seat exactly where he’s meant to be, and indignation slowly fades away into a newfound admiration of Miles’ face. Of course, he’s known objectively that the man was attractive since he’d seen him in the newspaper that day, but to be quite so up close and personal is a very different matter. Miles looks back at him, with some measure of disunderstanding. “What?”

“Hello,” says Phoenix.

“Is that all? Because I really should be getting back to the office by now, so if you can’t give me any better explanation as to why I’m not currently wasting my time, then -”

It’s a ridiculous accusation, and Phoenix knows that they both know it. He’s just trying to bait Phoenix into doing something more interesting. And, damn it, it’s working. “Fine!”

“Hm?”

“I’ve seen your mouth at work once already today. Why don’t you show me what else it’s capable of?”

“That’s more like it,” he grins, and Phoenix catches a glint of sharpened teeth in the instant before his lips make contact.

It tastes mostly like his own blood, which is a little weird, but nothing he can’t look past in the face of making out with Miles Edgeworth. Honestly, Phoenix is becoming increasingly mad at his younger self for never having had this idea before, because it’s a really good one. All of the fantasies he never thought up, sitting through the toughest classes in law school, trying to keep himself awake - this could have been his strongest motivator in the run-up to the bar. What had he done instead? Subsist off of nothing but energy drinks and spite for several weeks on end? That’s clearly inferior now that he’s mouth to mouth with the alternative.

There’s an instant where Miles begins to run his teeth over Phoenix’s bottom lip, and then evidently thinks better of it and withdraws. Not one to be outdone, Phoenix returns the gesture with a little more confidence. It’s not like he can draw blood, after all, is it? He’s rewarded with the smallest noise of satisfaction coming from the back of Miles’ throat.

“Yeah?” he mutters against Miles’ face.

“You’re going to make it very difficult for me to return to work unaffected after this,” Miles murmurs back.

“How so?”

“I refuse to spell that out for you. Use your imagination, Phoenix.”

(Okay… It can’t be that important.) Phoenix returns to his motions, and introduces his hand to the back of Miles’ hair to boot. It’s nice, well-taken care of, even after more than three weeks of nonstop work and stressing. And those grey hairs have been there since they met again, he knows. 

Miles responds by leaning into him harder, threatening his balance on the edge of the couch, which doesn’t have an armrest - the only solution here is to hold on to him more firmly as a way to keep himself held steady. It’s a choice that seems to be working for Miles, as well, from the way he gets another one of those approving noises.

“I like that,” he decides.

“I like you,” Miles responds, too quickly to be anything but genuine. “Put your legs up if you’re going to fall.”

“Hm?” He takes stock of the situation, and decides that Miles is right - if he’s going to be leaning at this angle, then hooking his legs over Miles’ will make sure he doesn’t fall. “Good point. You’re looking out for me.”

“I didn’t go through all of that just to let you crack your head against the carpet.”

“Even so!” He readjusts, and then returns to business. A hand comes to rest around the small of his back - it’s the kind of intimacy that he’s been removed from for a long, long time. The last time he even got a hug was three weeks ago, and that was from Maya; this is so much more, and so much more intense at the same time. (How quickly has the situation changed…)

They spend what is probably way too much time like that, Phoenix practically being dipped on the dancefloor, Miles walking the tightrope of restraint against the implication of blood, before he gives up and stops to take another drink (“Still disappointingly lacking in iron…” “Hey!”). That’s about the point at which Miles admits that he really ought to get back to his desk before his colleagues start asking questions.

“Before you go,” says Phoenix, “Detective Gumshoe mentioned he was worried about you! You should let him know that you’re alright if you can.”

“Gumshoe,” Miles mutters, “he’s just like you are, isn’t he?”

“Oblivious?”

“Caring,” he spits, like it’s an insult to his character. “But… yes, I will be in touch. If only to assure him that I’m still… around.”

Not alright, but around. Just like Miles Edgeworth to split that hair. “Good! He’ll be grateful to hear from you!”

“And when can I expect to see you back in court?”

“I don’t know. I’m still not taking any cases. Unless something really important comes along.”

“In that case, I suppose I should get your personal phone number instead?”

“... Yeah!” Phoenix lights up. “We can finally swap digits!”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

And that’s exactly what they do. (Hopefully, next time, Miles won’t wait three weeks to ask for help.)